Kālī Becomes Gaurī

Two brothers and a strange boon

After their wedding Śiva and Pārvatī made their home on Mount Mandara. The mountain had done long tapas for the joy of carrying them on its head, and Śiva made it their inner palace.

In time two asuras were born, the brothers Śumbha and Niśumbha. By their tapas they won a boon from Brahmā: no man in the world could kill them. And they chose their own death with great care. Let us die, they asked, only at the hands of a maiden born from a portion of Pārvatī — not born of a womb, untouched by any man, of unconquerable strength — and only when we are overcome by desire for her. So be it, said Brahmā.

The brothers defeated Indra and the gods and emptied the world of Vedic study and sacrifice. So Brahmā came to Śiva with a strange request. Find some way, even by finding fault with her, to make the Goddess angry, and give the gods the maiden Śakti who will be born of that anger.

“You are dark”

So one day, alone with her, Śiva said with a smile, as if in fault-finding: you are Kālī — dark.

Pārvatī was stung. If you never loved this dark colour, she said, why have you held back your displeasure all this time? A woman however beautiful is born in vain if her husband's love is not with her. I will give up this colour you have mocked and take another — or I will give up myself.

She rose from the couch, resolved on tapas, and asked leave to go. Afraid of losing her love, Śiva all but fell at her feet. I said it in play, he told her. Who else could I love? You are the mother of the world and I its father. Our love was never Kāma's doing — the world existed before Kāma did. I burned Kāma because he took me for an ordinary god. And you will soon see why I spoke as I did.

Pārvatī would not be soothed. If the colour troubles you, Śiva said, why tapas? Change it by my will or yours, this instant. No, she answered — I will not ask that of you, and I cannot will it myself. I will worship Brahmā with tapas and become gaurī, fair. As Satī I won you through tapas; I will do so again.

Śiva smiled and said nothing. For the sake of the gods' work, he did not try to stop her.

The tiger

Pārvatī walked around her husband, held back the grief of parting, and went to the Himālaya — to the very place where she had once done tapas with her friends. She visited her parents, bowed to them, told them everything and took their leave. Then she laid aside her ornaments, bathed, put on an ascetic's dress, and three times a day worshipped Śiva in a liṅga made for the moment, with the flowers and fruits of the forest. It is Śiva himself, she was sure, who will come in Brahmā's form to give me the fruit of this tapas.

One day a huge tiger came to the grove, meaning her harm. As it drew near, its body went stiff; it stood before her as still as a painted picture. Pārvatī did not flinch. Starving, the tiger stared at her day and night, thinking only: she is my food. And so it stood before her, day after day, as if in worship.

Pārvatī began to feel: this tiger is my devotee. It guards me from the wild beasts of the forest. And she showed it grace. By her grace its impurities fell away at once. It knew who she was. Its hunger left it, its body was freed, and its cruelty was gone. It became her devoted servant, and roamed the grove driving the other beasts away, while her tapas grew fiercer and fiercer.

Kauśikī

Meanwhile the gods, tormented by Śumbha and Niśumbha, went to Brahmā, and Brahmā — remembering what he had asked of Śiva — came with them to Pārvatī's grove. She received him with honour, and he asked, as if he did not know, why she was doing such tapas.

Brahmā, she said, when I think of it, you are my eldest son, the first of all beings. You are also my husband's father, since Śiva appeared from your brow; and my own grandfather, since my father the Himālaya is your son. How can I tell you what passed between my husband and me? Enough — I want to lay aside this darkness, in a pure way, and become fair.

For that your wish alone would have been enough, said Brahmā. But let your play serve the world. Śumbha and Niśumbha may die only by your hand. Be still for a moment: the Śakti you send forth will be their death.

At once the daughter of the mountain drew off the dark sheath of her skin and stood golden and fair. The sheath she had cast off became a maiden dark as a rain cloud, and she was called Kauśikī, “she who came from the sheath”. She had eight great arms bearing conch, discus, trident and other weapons, three eyes and the crescent moon on her head; no man had touched her, and no one could defeat her. She is the Goddess's own power of māyā, called Yoganidrā and Vaiṣṇavī.

Pārvatī placed her in Brahmā's hands. Brahmā gave her a mighty lion to ride, and a home on the Vindhya mountains, and worshipped her there. She bowed to her mother Gaurī and to Brahmā, and went to the Vindhyas with the many Śaktis born from her own limbs. In battle she cut down Śumbha and Niśumbha — with the arrows of her glances, and with real arrows. That battle, Vāyu says, is told elsewhere.

“He has come to my shelter”

Then Gaurī asked a return favour of Brahmā. Do you see this tiger? It guarded my grove from wicked beasts, and it has worshipped me with a single mind. Nothing would please me more than to keep it. Let it walk in my inner palace; Śiva will gladly make it a leader of his gaṇas. Give me leave to go, with it leading the way.

Brahmā laughed at her innocence. A cruel tiger — and your grace? You are pouring nectar into a serpent's mouth. This is no tiger but a demon in a tiger's shape. It has eaten cows and ascetic brahmins, and it roams wherever it likes, in any form it likes. It should suffer for its sins. What does the Goddess want with a creature so wicked by nature?

Everything you say is true, said the Goddess. Let it be so. But it has come to my shelter, and I must not abandon it.

Then Brahmā bowed. I spoke of its past without knowing its devotion, he said. If it is devoted to you, what can its old sins do to it? Your devotee never perishes. You are the unborn, ancient Śakti; bondage and release are in your hands. Let this sinful tiger reach the highest perfection by your grace — who could stand in the way?

Home to Mandara

Gaurī ended her tapas, and Brahmā vanished. She went to Menā and Himavān, who could not bear to part with her, and comforted them. The trees of her grove rained flowers on her as she left, like tears, and the birds in their branches cried as if in grief. Then, eager to see her husband, with the tiger going ahead of her like her own son, talking with her friends and lighting the ten directions with her radiance, she set out for Mount Mandara.

Śiva was waiting, as eager as the gaṇas at the door. She bowed; before she could even rise he took her in both arms and held her to his heart. When she sat on the couch he lifted her onto his lap. Has your anger passed? he asked. My heart was never won by your colour, dark or any other — only by who you are. How could we two ever be apart? I stand on the head of fire and you on the head of the moon; this whole world rests on fire and moon together. You are speech and I am its meaning. You are the knowledge by which I am known. I do not create and destroy by effort; it happens by command alone — and that command is you. I said that word only for the gods' work, and you knew it. Even your anger was for the three worlds.

Pārvatī smiled and said nothing — except to tell him about Kauśikī. Have you seen the maiden I made? There has never been one like her, nor will there be. And she told of Kauśikī's home in the Vindhyas and her victory over Śumbha and Niśumbha.

Somanandī

Then at her word a friend led in the tiger. Lord, said the Goddess, I have brought you a gift. I have no worshipper like him. He guarded my grove, and he left his own country to please me. If you are glad I have come, let him stand at the door of my inner palace with the other guards, under Nandī's command, wearing Nandī's marks.

I am very pleased, said Śiva. And in that instant the tiger stood there as a leader of the gaṇas, with a supple golden staff, jewelled armour and a dagger shaped like a serpent. Because he had delighted Śiva together with Umā, he became known as Somanandī.

Then Śiva sat Gaurī on the couch and adorned her with jewels with his own hands.